Psychote

Medium – Mouse/Keyboard on Paint.net

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Golden Dulled to Gray

The earth was golden
Woman created man
Man make machine
Woman nurtured man
Man maintenance machine
Man became independent
Machine becomes self aware
Man betrayed woman; patriarchy
Machine betrays man; machiarchy
Man enslaved woman
Machine enslaves man
The earth is grey
When will we learn from our past mistakes so our successors won’t repeat them in the future?

Magical Apartment

Once upon a time there existed a boy and the boy lived in a small town located inside a box. The boy didn’t quite care for the people, culture or the various other contents of the box. Because of this the boy had many fleeting bouts of fantasy and his imagination grew to be quite formidable. The boy soon grew into a man and it was time for him to move from one corner of the box to another. The man was anxious for something new so when he moved to the new corner he made many friends and had lots of fun but something was missing. It wasn’t until much later that he realized the people and culture of this corner were no better than the previous. The man had traded a culture of ignorance and vanity for one of apathy and arrogance. So the man moved again to a new corner in the box. This corner at first glance thought was the best but as time passed he realized it was more of the same.

Except the man ended up meeting some wonderful friends and with these friends they discovered a rip in the box. They were somewhat afraid of what may lurk on the other side but they had all experienced life in the box and they could not waste even one more second there. So hope outweighed their fears and they journeyed through the rip. In that moment in time dreams were made reality, moments of magic were abound at every turn and the word impossible did not exist. The friends realized in that magical winter of 2011 that they were unstoppable, another world was possible. As with all seasons, this magical winter did not last forever. Eventually the friends would have to return to the box but the memories and the magic of the journey would be always and forever in their hearts.

inside the toy box lies a broken thing

the demon has a hold on me, its been 20 years

its’ icy fingers grab my throat, the grip tightens every year.

it reroutes my functionality, making me mute when i have so much to say

it tells me to distrust those who only try to befriend me

essentially turning me into a coward whose only instinct is to flee

“escape from your family who loves you, escape from those who try, suffer in silence until the day you die, it tells me”

I defend my actions by saying they never really cared but the truth is i never gave them a chance to

Really that’s the major source of my fears, to be judged harshly from that of my peers

so i continue to run, continue to hide, in my fleet i only wish to save them from the burdens of my psychological scythe

all the while they misunderstand and mistake my absences for uninterest in the happenings of their life

“a slow painful death, because you cannot end it on your own, to cease to live is to cease to feel these paranoid delusions become real, it convinces me”

In my attempt to be brave, i hide my sorrow with a smile

i become a doll, a play thing, an empty shell painted with a pleasing face.

if the face frowns they will ask why but you cant begin to explain, you want to but its much too impossible to try.

so smile instead, pretend you’re out of the red and hope that they are not the wiser

But deep down thats all youve ever wanted, a rescuer to pull you out of the mud

All your life you’ve tried to be your own hero.

all the while there was a constant temptation, a way out of the pain

to seek aid from the people in white coats

tell them of my ills fore i know they’d be more than willing to prescribe me a pill.

but that very pill i fear will be the death of my will.

i’ll turn into a pill junkie, a zombie, losing all the freedom this crazy mind creates.

but is the freedom worth it? has it been worth it all these years?

some days living in extreme bliss, others in fear

Tonight is one of those nights I want nothing more than to surrender.

and 365 magical pills a year would be more pleasant than a single bullet to the skull.

i force myself to sleep and when i wake up, the pain has subsided considerably; i dont feel so much like a loser; i dont really want to die

but this confidence is temporay

its only a matter of time before the sorrow is retriggered

is there an end to this waltz of grief and joy?

i wish i had an answer but i am just a toy

Tekahionwake Remixed & Remembered

Oh why do you people force upon me the surname of Seay? Do you think you help me by forcing me to represent false blood? To cut off any link to my ancestor’s glorious past? I am not of European descent. Who I was, who I am, and who ever I may come to be I devote to the restoration of the memory of my scattered people, wherever they might be. Forget that my ancestors were forced upon the surname of Seay, but remember always that I was Cai Otee, the long lost African who forgot his tongue, and humbly aspired to educate the world of his people, who possess the strongest and most forgiving souls I have ever seen.

-Dedicated to Tekahionwake. “The Mohawk that humbly aspired to be the saga singer of her people, the bard of the noblest folk the world has ever seen, the sad historian of her own race.”

Live Your Life Like A Movie

There are many times in my life when I am faced with a difficult descision. During these times my natural reaction is to punk out, to run and hide. But over time, I discovered a system that helps me to make the correct choice.

I have to center myself, clear my mind of all doubt and ask myself one question…”If your life was a live movie, being watched by all your peers, loved ones, and millions around the globe, what choice would you make?”

It’s easy to run away when you think you’re he only one paying attention but when you imagine the whole world is watching, suddenly pride kicks in and it’s not so easy to take the easy way out.

Now if I could manage to trigger my theme music during dramatic sequences and learn the key distance from whence it’s safe to WALK away from an explosion, then my life will be perfecto.

Return to DC

9-26-12

Upon arriving in DC, I walked for what seemed like miles. Finally dripping with perspiration and my thighs chaffing so bad it felt as if the denim in my pants were cutting into my flesh, I arrived at my destination, a church on 1525 Newton Street. I stashed my cargo in a bush and walked to Target to finally use my damn New York EBT card. later the O****y Our Homes Atlanta (OOHA) gang arrived and I met up with them back at the church. The best part of this reunion was that I was reunited with my little soul sister Fox which meant that another infamous group, The Jets, were ready to take flight.

All was not well however as near the end of the night, after coming back from eating Chinese food at a park, I realized I lost my cell phone and with it all the pictures and video I’d taken of my adventures in New York. Retracing my steps I scoured the streets but was unsuccessful. I can only hope it will turn up at a later date.

 

9-27-12

After confessing my heartache to Fox I decided the only ailment to my condition was  to live my life as if it were a movie and do something crazy. That something crazy was to hold open an iron gate against security officers who most likely were twice as tall and heavy as I was so that my comrades fighting against Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac could bum rush the perimeter and protest against them. Upon arriving however, the police had the gate too heavily guarded so we marched in front of the building instead.

A friend and I then held up a giant banner made by Michael Cera and stood in the middle of the street blocking traffic on one of the busiest roads in DC. This stage of the demonstration ended when Reneka and 4 other activists were heroically arrested for a having a sit in in the street. After a short lunch break we started stage 2 of the operation by traveling to Virginia to protest in front of Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac’s head quarters.

Stage 3 began when we traveled to Maryland to protest Ed DeMarco, (a greedy mother fucker responsible for thousands if not millions of families evicted from their homes and put out on the streets) at his house. After an impassioned speak out, we celebrated the successful Triple Stage Operation by having a pizza party on his front lawn. To DeMarco and his fat cat friends, maybe something he chose to not bat an eyelash to but to the streets and he residents that are cultured by it, the ultimate offense.

Because in all honesty, when was the last time you allowed your enemies to have a pizza party on YOUR front lawn?